I'm completely out of breath after sprinting almost the whole way from the docks to the castle gates, and in the largest city in the world, that is quite the distance. One could argue that that was pointless. After all, it took hours for the news to reach us. But I could not justify making our Queen wait even a second longer than necessary. This was too big.
I impatiently wait as the gate guards confirm my credentials. It’s not like they’ve never seen me pass through this gate before, I’m a flaming lieutenant. Though I understand the need to follow the procedures, Ægisson and Bjarnadóttir should know better than to keep me waiting here when they can clearly see the urgency of the news.
At long last, Ægisson returns, and indicates to Bjarnadóttir that she can let me through. Before she can lower her spear properly I push my way through, not sparing them a second glance. I leave a bemused gatehouse in my wake, but I have no time to spare explaining anything to those brats. I have four more of such checkpoints to get through before I even get to the castle.
Nearly half an hour later, I’m finally inside the castle. A massive edifice made of pale white compressed stone, tiny blue veins work their ways through the surface, like marble. It’s not though. I’m not entirely certain how it was made, but it’s impossible to even scratch the outer walls. Some form of magic I suppose.
The main entrance lies just behind me, and now I’m in the grand hallway leading directly into the castle. There’s a long winding way still to follow to make it to the throne room. If I were to be an attacker I’d have a hard time making it there while constantly being peppered with attacks from murder holes and unreachable walkways. Several inner courts given a chance to rain hell on any invading army, all the while unable to fight back until they make it through the maze. Every wall that matters is constructed from the same blue veined white stone. The long walk is a small price to pay for security.
In this case, it annoys me though, as it adds another easy 15 minutes to my already long trip. I’ve stopped running, as it would be impossible to truly built up speed anyway. Eventually, I find myself in front of the gates to the throne room where I know my queen will be waiting. I find myself nervous. It’s not often that I find myself reporting directly to the queen. She doesn’t have a reputation for shooting the messenger, but I’m still anxious about bringing bad news.
The doors to the throne room are made of beautifully decorated heavy oak wood. As my arrival is announced, I find my eyes tracing the relief of the figures displayed there. A battle is displayed, one fought with a massive army. Not something that you’d see very often any more these days. The principality is safer than ever before.
Or so it seemed, until today.
Finally there is some a voice saying something front the other side of the door, and the guards at the entrance nod to me, then open the doors.
As the heavy doors creak open, a wave of cool air washes over me, carrying the scent of polished wood and faintly burning incense. The throne room stretches before me like a grand tapestry woven with history, its high ceilings adorned with intricate murals depicting past glories and victories. My heart races as I step inside, each footfall echoing against the black marble floor, a stark reminder of the gravity of my errand.
At the far end, Queen Stella sits regally upon her throne, her gaze piercing yet calm, as if she can read the tumult in my mind before I even utter a word. She’s in her fifty-sixth year now, and has been queen for the entire 36 years I’ve been alive. Her once long and flowing golden hair has started to gray and is now styled with elegance. On either side of her, a crowd of nobles and officials has gathered, ready to catch every word from the queen. It looks like a pretty dull way to pass the time. Thank goodness I'm just here to deliver my report.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the weight of her expectations and the burden of what I carry; this is not just news—it is a turning point that could alter the fate of our nation forever.
I quickly step forward and bend my knee ten paces from the throne, then raise my head to look her in the eyes. “My queen. As we suspected, the Empire is preparing to invade the League. We have just received the news of massive troop movements along their southern border. Several armies of their usual two thousand men have been spotted. One of our catamarans just delivered this news from the observation post at the border. Our scouts in the League reported these movements about twelve hours ago.”
I knew we’d been expecting the empire to make a move for years. It was mostly a question of whether they were going to attack the League or the Tribes. Ever since they annexed Craica just a short fifty years ago, the whole continent had been holding its breath, hoping their hunger for dominion would be satisfied. In fact, there was a large faction of nobles that seemed to think exactly that was the case. Thankfully the Queen was not part of those, and we’ve kept a constant watch.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
It occurs to me that I’ve made a mistake, since what I heard was 12 hours ago, but I took an hour getting here, so it should be 13. I pause for a moment, but hesitation is silly. If I made a mistake I should correct it as soon as possible. “Apologies ma'am, it should be 13 hours, since it was reported to me at the docks when the catamaran arrived an hour ago."
There is a slight nod from the queen at the correction, acknowledging it without making it an issue. “Thank you lieutenant.” She seems unsurprised at the news. “It was always a matter of time, but they moved sooner than I expected.” she states for everyone to hear. There’s nods of acknowledgement and whispers from all around.
“This changes nothing!” she says, raising her voice above the tumult. “They’ll find the League a harder nut to crack than they think."
The room falls silent, a palpable tension hanging in the air as all eyes turn to the queen, waiting for her next move. I can sense the shift in mood; her words resonate like a rallying cry, everyone wishing to believe her words with all their heart. Yet beneath her confident facade, I can see the wheels turning in her mind, strategizing and calculating every possible outcome.
I feel a swell of pride for our queen—unlike her predecessor, she embodies strength and wisdom, traits that have kept our realm safe for so long. But even as I admire her resolve, a nagging doubt creeps into my thoughts: does she truly understand the depths of the Empire’s ambition?
Everyone is too certain that the Orodale Highland will stop the Empire from streaming straight into the Principality, and that might be true, but there’s nothing preventing them from going around the Highland through either the League or the Tribes. I do not for one moment think that their true target isn’t Yr. We’re the only ones that could potentially put up a fight against the empire.
Over the years of peace, our military has been worn down. What used to be a hundred thousand soldiers after that brutal war has gradually shrunk to a pitiful state, where we can hardly muster ten weak legions. Don't get me wrong; I’d match a legion from Yr against any other in the world and give them a solid 80% chance of coming out on top. But the quality we have is overshadowed by the lack of numbers.
By the last count, the empire can throw nearly forty legions at anyone without even raising their conscription levels. No country in the world can stand them if they fully mobilize. Certainly not the Leagues. Those guys think you can solve anything by just talking enough. It’s a miracle they get anything done. I wonder if they even have an army, or if that’s just what they call their roaming bands of spear wielding rookies. I shake my head. No, the Leagues will hardly be a speed bump to the Empire.
As the murmurs of doubt ripple through the assembly, I feel a surge of urgency bubbling within me. I can’t keep these thoughts to myself; they could be crucial in shaping our response. “Your Majesty,” I interject, my voice steady despite the weight of the room’s attention pressing down on me, “we must consider not just the League’s military capabilities, but also their alliances. If we are to act decisively, we need to fortify our own defenses and perhaps even forge new pacts while there’s still time.”
The queen’s eyes narrow slightly, her calm demeanor barely changing as she leans forward. I can see her processing my words, weighing them, her eyes marginally flicking around at the nobles all around, considering political maneuvering she has navigated for decades. My heart races; this is my chance to contribute meaningfully to her strategy—a chance for us all to survive the looming storm.
“Your suggestion is noted lieutenant.” she says dryly. I tense, and my cheeks flush. I overstepped my bounds; she's not actually angry, just subtly reminding me of my position. The strategy planning will be left to her and the three generals. There’s a snicker from one of the nobles.
“You can return to your duties. Please do let me know immediately if any other news arrives.” The dismissal is clear, but at this point I’m nearly happy for it.
As I turn to leave, the weight of her gaze lingers on my back. The grand hall feels both expansive and suffocating, filled with the murmurs of nobles discussing the implications of what I’ve just shared. Each step away from the throne room feels heavier than the last, as if I’m dragging the burden of our nation’s uncertainty with me.
Outside, the cool air greets me like a balm, but it does little to soothe my racing thoughts; instead, they spiral into darker corners. What if my warnings fall on deaf ears? What if we wait too long to act? In the end, I have very little control over what unfolds, and that truth stings. I’m just in charge of a detachment of soldiers guarding this city—what can I actually do?
My thoughts turn to my wife, and my young daughter back home. How can I best keep them safe? Should I send them south? But no, even if the Empire breaks through the Leagues in record time the capital is as far from that border as it’s possible to get. There’s no safer place in the world than this city. Even if the Empire encroaches, there will be plenty of time to get on a ship.
The ornate tapestries lining the walls seem to mock my anxiety, depicting tales of heroism and valor that feel silly with the reality of war looming over us. I can’t shake the image of my daughter’s bright eyes, filled with innocence, as she dances around our modest home—an image I never want to see stained by war. Just thinking about them getting swept up in the chaos makes my heart ache.
No matter what else happens, I’m determined to make sure they stay safe.
Just as I step out of the castle once again, I see another messenger racing up the street, his face red, coming right for the gate.